


you cut through all the noise

by wanderinghooves



Series: Though Many the Miles [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Bonding, Katara (Avatar)-centric, Love is hard, Older Characters, POV Female Character, Post-Canon, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Rough Kissing, Sappy Ending, Separation Anxiety, aang and katara are separated but reunite, katara cries and then makes out with aang, probably not at all compliant with the comics, three-shot, when you love the avatar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderinghooves/pseuds/wanderinghooves
Summary: A year is such an excruciatingly long time.Aang is sent abroad for a year of diplomacy while Katara helps to rebuild at home. Distance makes the heart grow lonely.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara & Suki (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Katara
Series: Though Many the Miles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785508
Comments: 22
Kudos: 204
Collections: AtLA <10k fics to read





	you cut through all the noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SweetAvidyaJones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetAvidyaJones/gifts).



> Inspiration: The Anchor by Bastille
> 
> ***also draws heavily from Reunion by SweetAvidyaJones, because Kataang + separation is such a tempting concept***

Katara’s fingers fumble as she attempts to braid back her hair, the plaits slipping from her grasp to unwind themselves like angry snakes.

“Dammit!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she rubs desperately at her forehead. She should not be this tightly wound.

A sharp rapping sound from behind her snaps her out of her frustration. She turns to see Toph leaning languidly against the doorframe of her guestroom, arms crossed. Her expression is distinctly unimpressed.

“Oh, come _on_ now, sugar queen. I thought we talked about this.”

Katara heaves a breath.

“I know, I know. It’s just still…”

She stares at her palms, spread in her lap.

“It’s been a year, Toph. A _year.”_

Toph sighs and ambles forward to rest a firm hand on her shoulder. Katara’s muscles relax slightly; the earthbender’s stoic touch is always grounding.

“It has. But that doesn’t mean things have to change. I mean, you still _love_ each other, right?”

Katara dips her head pensievely. 

A year ago to the day was the last time she’d laid eyes on Aang, bundling him up onto Appa in the courtyard of the Fire Nation Palace as he and Zuko prepared to embark on a massive diplomatic journey through the Earth Kingdom. He’d kissed her, long and sweet, and promised her that he’d be back before she knew it. 

She hadn’t cried, not even a little, not until he was completely out of sight. Then she’d let herself collapse into a heap in the arms of her brother and Toph.

Katara had been _good_ since then, she really had. She still cried sometimes, but never too deeply or for too long. Instead she’d immersed herself in work, sailing home with Sokka, Suki, and the rest of the Kyoshi warriors to supplement the expansion of infrastructure in the reinvigorated Southern Water Tribe. While there she’d even managed to carve out time to oversee the Tribe’s handful of budding waterbenders, children of only four or five years who watched with wide eyes as she guided them through the basic forms. She _didn’t_ think of how much they reminded her of Aang years ago, stumbling through his own first steps of push and pull.

Every couple of months she’d return to the Fire Nation to witness messenger reports from the diplomats. She had been heartened by Zuko’s approach to handling the former colonies, allowing government of the communities to become joint with the Earth Kingdom in order to preserve the cross-cultural couples and families than had formed there. She’d ignored how Sokka had looked at her when the messenger had recalled the Avatar’s particular joy at this resolution.

Toph attended these meetings, too, which provided Katara with a welcome distraction when discussion of Aang became too overwhelming. Unlike Sokka, who would regard her with uncharacteristic and infuriating levels of sympathy, Toph did nothing to temper her usual crassness. She’d drag Katara away from the assembly to show her some new metalbending move or another, or to complain about the quality of the latest students enrolled in her earthbending school. It was easy for Katara to forget her more melancholy thoughts in these conversations.

But as the year had worn on and reports of preparations for the envoys' return began to swirl, even Toph had started to treat her in a more subdued manner. This drove Katara up the wall. What was everyone so _worried_ about? She was fine, she could handle herself. Aang’s homecoming was supposed to be a happy occasion, for spirits’ sakes.

She can still maintain this sort of unaffected facade incredibly well, until it suddenly crumbles in instances like this. A year is such an excruciatingly long time. Time enough, she fears, for him to grow beyond her sphere of significance. That because not only is he the Avatar but now an international diplomatic leader and the symbol of the world’s reconstruction, he’s become something she should not, cannot touch.

A muscle jumps in her jaw, and Katara can suddenly feel the sting of tears threatening to rise in her eyes. With a determined breath, she forces them back down.

She raises her own hand to rest on Toph’s, still planted firmly on her shoulder.

“Yes. You’re right.”

Toph gives her hand an encouraging squeeze, and they remain in silence for a moment.

The moment is then abruptly over as Toph’s hand retracts to clap Katara firmly on the back.

“Well, none of this will matter in an hour, because you’ll have seen him again regardless.”

Hoisting her up unceremoniously, she fixes Katara with a mischievous look.

“Let’s haul ass over to that conference hall, sweet cheeks. I heard there’s going to be complimentary fire whiskey and you _know_ there is no way I’m gonna go into this meeting stone-cold sober.”

Katara can’t help but crack the hint of a smile at this, dusting off her dress.

“Alright, fine. Lead the way then, you lunatic.”

* * * * *

Katara’s fingers worry at the hem of her dress, trying valiantly to keep her leg from bouncing beneath the conference table. Toph hisses unhelpfully from the seat next to her, breath burning with cinnamon from her recent whiskey-related indulgences.

“You trying to set off an earthquake? Come _on,_ Katara, he’s still the same old Aang. Nothing’s changed.”

Katara nods absentmindedly at the words and forces her foot flat to the floor, her mind still muddled with low, silent anxiety. 

She glances across the table at her brother and Suki, whispering between each other in the pre-meeting lull. Sokka must’ve said something clever, because Suki covers her mouth to restrain a laugh and digs him with her shoulder. Something in her gut aches.

The deafening ring of a gong jars Katara out of her musings, and suddenly her heart is racing like an ostrich-horse. She clasps her hands firmly in her lap as the doors to the hall swing open, nails digging into her palms.

The Royal Herald enters first, a short, stout man with a meticulously trimmed beard who brandishes a scroll in front of him. He lets out a loud ‘ahem’ as if all eyes were not already upon him.

“The Fire Lord has returned from his extended diplomatic envoy to the Earth Kingdom. He is accompanied by his wife, the Fire Lady, as well as the Avatar, who have served as his council in this endeavor.”

The herald scurries out of the doorway to stand stiffly beside the throne, his chest puffed up like a badger-frog. Though the atmosphere in the room is unmistakably formal, Katara has to subdue the sudden, bizarre urge to laugh.

The Fire Lord steps into the room and some of Katara’s tension abates. A year has served to change little about Zuko as she remembers him; he’s twenty-one now and has long since blossomed into a fine, well-respected man. There are perhaps a few more lines to his brow than she recalls, but his face remains kind and familiar. As he gathers his formal robes to take his throne, she can see him fixing Sokka and Suki with a rather sheepish look; she can only imagine the strength it is taking for her brother not to burst into hysterics at the _propriety_ of it all.

Mai enters right after him, her countenance similarly unchanged. Her hair has been cut shorter than the typical styles of the Fire Nation and her pale skin has deepened with the hint of a tan from her travels, but her sardonic attitude is unmistakable. An attendant rushes over to offer her his arm as she settles herself into a simpler throne to Zuko’s right, and Mai makes no attempt to disguise her annoyance as she elbows him away. Katara hears rustling near Suki and she knows Ty Lee has buried her head in her hands to suppress a howl of laughter.

There is a pause after Mai’s entrance that lasts just long enough for Katara’s nerves to fray. She needs this to be over, she needs to lay eyes on him before her thoughts suffocate her.

As if on cue, Aang enters the room.

Katara’s not _entirely_ sure, but she thinks her stomach drops out of her body and through the floor.

He looks as if he's grown at least six inches from when she last saw him, discernably taller than Zuko even in his formal boots. The robes he wears only cover a single shoulder, allowing her the agonizing view of the expansive musculature of his chest and arms, more developed than ever. 

All remaining baby fat has melted from his face, rendering it angular and mature. She’s barely reconciled the fact that his jaw is now square when she registers that _he's growing a beard,_ jet-black and closely cropped. She can only gape, brain fizzling, as he settles onto his mat at Zuko’s left.

If sixteen had made him an adult, seventeen has made him a man.

His eyes are the only element that has remained the same as she remembers, dark grey but as bright as ever. She feels a jolt of electricity shoot up her spine as his gaze locks with hers and the corners of his mouth twitch; she whips her head around to stare forcefully into the polished surface of the table. In the reflection, she can see that her cheeks have run bright red.

Though Toph is blind, Katara can feel the force of her stare boring into the side of her face. In her periphery, she can just make out the movement of Sokka and Suki’s eyes as they attempt to shoot imperceptible glances between her and Aang. She hadn’t indulged in any of the available fire whiskey, but she suddenly feels very warm.

Her eyes remain trained on the tabletop as Zuko speaks.

“Friends, thank you for gathering here today. It means much to me to see all four nations’ commitment to diplomacy and cooperation.”

The attendees around Katara offer resounding applause.

“I’d like to report my observations from this past year of travel, and to open further discussion among us all for how the Fire Nation can continue to assist in the rebuilding of your communities.”

Zuko bows his head somberly, his brows knit.

“This year has cemented my understanding that nothing I do will ever be able to fully erase the injustices my predecessors have levied upon you. But I hope that from now on, I will be able to alleviate some of your struggles.”

Resting a hand on her husband’s arm, Mai chimes in.

“Our first and foremost objective as leaders of the Fire Nation is to take responsibility for our country’s past failings. Please tell us anything we need to address to fulfill this.”

She arches a brow wryly.

“And don’t try and mince your words. Trust me, I’ve seen some shit this year; you deserve to air some grievances.”

A surprised murmur passes through the gathering at her frankness, and Katara smiles slightly. Mai and Zuko make a great team: he’s good at speaking, but she’s good at motivating.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Aang’s head nod in agreement.

“I second these thoughts. Prosperity must be cultivated in all nations for genuine peace to be reached.”

He gazes evenly over the assembly.

“I will also present my own concept for international cooperation at the end of this meeting, which will be open for discussion.”

Chatter rises once more among the attendees, but Katara is only faintly aware of it. She had snapped around to stare at Aang as he’d spoken, her expression bordering on incredulous. The last time she’d seen him his voice had been soft, crackling at the edge of maturity; a year of diplomacy has transformed it into something deep and strong, commanding respect. 

The warmth she’d felt earlier has begun to coalesce into a hot pool in her belly. 

Shifting her gaze, she regards a tall glass of fire whisky set to the side of her. Toph had insisted on bringing her some before the meeting despite her protests, and it has so far gone untouched.

At the front of the room, an attendant produces a thick scroll containing the meeting agenda and presents it to Zuko, who clears his throat as he unfurls it. A flurry of pen and parchment suddenly siezes the room as people prepare to take notes.

Katara uses this as an opportunity to drain her entire glass.

* * * * *

Attendees gradually begin to spill out into the hall’s adjoining plaza as the formal meeting draws to a close. 

Katara hesitates at the table for a few moments, her gaze on Aang. He’s immediately been overwhelmed by a cloud of delegates from every nation concerning this “unified city” concept of his; it’s apparent that he’ll be occupied for a bit.

Somewhat crestfallen, she turns away and joins the crowd of people bustling outside. 

She draws a sharp breath as the cool evening air hits her face, soothing the residual heat of the fire whiskey. Scanning the crowded plaza, she spots Suki approaching her with two drinks in hand.

Katara smiles somewhat wistfully as Suki reaches her, proffering one of the glasses.

“Thought maybe you’d like another one of these. Just drink it _slower_ than that first one, alright?”

Katara pulls a face but accepts the drink.

“Sounds like a plan. Did you lose Sokka?”

Suki rolls her eyes and jabs a thumb back over her shoulder.

“No, he and Toph are back at the bar trying to see who can burn off all their taste buds first. I thought I’d take a break from babysitting them.”

Katara huffs a laugh. 

“I don’t blame you.”

Suki gestures to a path leading away from the plaza.

“Walk with me?”

They stroll leisurely for a bit, an easy silence between them. The path ends up winding into a small garden, abandoned except for a handful of mole-mice scurrying between the plants. 

Suki stops at a bench between beds of snapdragons and fire lilies, gesturing for Katara to join her. As they sit, Katara can feel her mustering up to speak.

Before Suki can say anything, Katara holds up a hand.

“I’m _fine,_ Suki. Really.”

The other woman gazes at her with a tinge of sadness, resting a hand on Katara’s arm.

“Okay. I just want you to know that it’s alright if you’re not.”

Katara swirls her glass, gazing into its fiery contents.

“Yeah.”

Suki sighs gently. She pauses for a moment, as if debating something.

“I remember what it was like to feel like that.”

Katara tilts her head, quizzical.

“What?”

Suki’s face turns wistful as she looks out across the flowers.

“When Sokka first left Kyoshi Island with you and Aang, I thought I was sick. I was so _sad_ for so long. It was like something had been ripped away from me before I’d even gotten a chance to understand what it was.”

She takes a pensive sip of her drink before continuing.

“And then when I found him again at Full Moon Bay, it almost hurt even worse. Because it was Sokka, but at the same time it _wasn’t._ It wasn’t the same Sokka I’d remembered for all those months. He was older, wiser, more worn. He’d been through so many experiences that I could never fully understand. But despite it all, I knew that I still loved him.”

Katara’s brows knit as Suki speaks, almost ashamed. She’d never considered where Suki had been then, what she’d been feeling in their absence. They’d just been kids.

“So I knew I couldn’t give up, I wouldn’t give up until we really knew each other. It was hard coming to terms with everything that had happened when we’d been apart, that we’d _grown up._ But we worked at it, worked to understand each other all over again. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Katara, I know I would. Love is worth it.”

Katara’s knuckles are white against her glass from the sudden force of her grip, and there is a beat of silence before she speaks.

“Thanks, Suki.”

She offers nothing further; as if sensing her desire to mull things over alone, Suki gently retracts her hand and rises.

“Speaking of Sokka, I’d better head back and make sure he’s not causing too much of a scene.”

She moves to exit the garden, but pauses briefly.

“Good luck.”

And then Suki is gone, and Katara is alone. 

She hangs her head and rubs at her temples, overwhelmed. Somewhere in her mind she pictures what Aang would do in this situation, deep breaths in and out, calming his chi. 

Katara has barely begun to collect her thoughts when she’s interrupted by the croak of a frogfish. Vaguely intrigued, she rises somewhat mechanically and wanders in the direction of the sound. 

There’s a small pond near the edge of the garden, a single zen-style bridge spanning its width. As she approaches, she can see the frogfish in question dive quickly back under the surface. She seats herself at the apex of the bridge, feet dangling just above the water.

Of course she still loves him. She’s loved him, in some capacity, ever since she’d clawed him out of that iceberg. It’s not _her_ she’s worried about.

She’s been on the verge of tears since this morning, but it’s only now, when no one else is there to see it and pity her, that she allows herself to cry. 

Burying her face in her hands, she feels the hot, stinging beads run down her cheeks and into her palms, before overflowing between her fingers and into the pond below. She suppresses the infuriating urge to sob, angry at such weakness.

She remains in this position for a long time. After a while she manages to stop the tears but she remains bowed, her eyes shut.

Eventually, she can sense a change in the sunlight between the folds of her arms, beginning to bleed orange as it dims. She's about to steel herself to get up, to return to face the party when she hears the faint click of footsteps approaching along the path behind her.

They near the pond to stop a few feet shy of the bridge, waiting.

Despite the earlier tears, when she swallows her throat is suddenly very dry. 

Katara _knows_ it’s him, knows it like she knows the grey of his eyes, a color she’s been searching for in everything for a year. She forces herself to breathe again, slow and deep.

Gradually, she straightens her posture. When she speaks, her voice is controlled.

“I thought they’d never let you out of that meeting.”

Aang chuckles quietly, and her stomach does a flip.

“I didn’t either. Those Earth Kingdom officials are very stubborn.”

He understands that he’s been given permission, so he ascends the bridge and settles himself beside her. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the water’s placid surface. The moments of silence that follow are deafening.

“I missed you so much.”

The words tumble out of her unbidden, and she clenches her jaw.

She hears him breathe with the same evenness that she remembers, the classic airbender method of calming.

“I missed you more.”

There is the tiniest of wavers in his voice, but she knows him too well to miss the emotion it conveys. All of a sudden the tears well back up, even stronger than before. 

She desperately tries to choke them down before he can notice _-you’ve already cried too much, you idiot-_ but he’s looking at her and she can’t help but look at him and his eyes are so sad, so full of love that she can’t take it, and then she’s sobbing in front of him like a child and he’s holding her against him, burying his face in her hair.

His hand strokes her back rythmically, and she can hear his heart beating deep in his chest.

_“Katara.”_

She pulls him closer, as close as she can with her arms around his waist.

They cling together for either several minutes or a few hours, she can’t really tell. Her tears eventually ebb and the only thing she can register is the feeling of his heartbeat against her cheek, reminding her that he is here, really here with her.

At some point they pull apart and Aang leans back, his hands cupping her cheeks to tilt her face up at him. He searches her face slowly, hungrily, as if he will never be able to look at her enough. Her eyes feast upon him as well, starved from the many months apart, and somewhere she thinks that she’d like to stay here, in this place, and stare at him forever. 

“You grew up.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle at her words.

“So did you.”

She leans forward to press her forehead against his shoulder, brows knitting as she breathes him in.

“I was so _scared._ I thought that this... I thought that I wouldn’t be enough for you anymore.”

Her face burns as she feels his muscles tense, and when he speaks his voice is low.

“Not enough?”

His fingers slide across her throat to lift her chin up even with his. Their faces are so close that Katara can feel his breath against her mouth. His eyes are steely, not with anger but with complete disbelief, as if he couldn't possibly fathom such a thought.

“I thought about you every minute of every day while I was gone, Katara. When people asked me what I fought for, why I cared so much about linking the nations back together, I told them about _you._ Every single night that I went to sleep, I dreamed that you were there next to me.”

He speaks urgently, almost pleading, like this is a matter of mortal importance.

She wants to say something, anything, but the words stick heavy in her throat. All she can get out is _Aang_ before he’s pressing his lips against hers with fervent desperation.

Her hands scrabble up to his neck, digging into the edges of his robes as she crushes herself against him. His fingers get lost somewhere in her hair, tangled up in bunches against her neck.

The kiss is ragged and messy and anguished like they’re trying to drown in each other, which Katara thinks she, at least, might be. Her nose rams abruptly against his as she shifts her head further to the side to meet him at a better angle, and she feels his teeth rasp harsh against her lip. 

Eventually they have to come up for air; Katara pants shallowly when Aang releases her, collapsing heavily against him. Between hoarse breaths she whispers that _she loves him,_ has always and will always love him, will never let him go like this again. 

He cradles her to himself, bowed over her like he’s afraid she could disappear at any moment. His own breath, typically so even and controlled, is now quick and erratic with emotion; his voice is just as frayed with yearning.

“You are _everything.”_

Air hitches in Katara’s throat and she is completely, utterly overwhelmed by him, drunk on his very presence; it’s all she can do to reach up and press her palm against the back of his neck, pulling him in to her once more.


End file.
